


Smashing Pumpkins

by shuns



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Explosions, F/M, First Kisses, Flamethrowers, Pumpkin Fight Club, Pumpkins, Second Chances, Smashing Pumpkins - Freeform, Zombies, Zumpkins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 05:27:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21248186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shuns/pseuds/shuns
Summary: Neville Longbottom likes his job at ICW's Department of Magical Plants just fine. Recently, his cases have been very ... bitey. Unwillingly, he returns to Britain to investigate the source of zombie plants, igniting an old flame, just in time for Samhain the darkest night of the year. One thing is for sure before the night is over they will be  Smashing Pumpkins.





	Smashing Pumpkins

* * *

Neville tipped his head back, sinking deeper into the carriage’s cushion and letting the nostalgia envelop him. The sway and the creak of the rig were soothing, but he missed Luna holding forth on some new fantastic creature or Seamus and Dean arguing over Quidditch. He hadn’t expected his return to Hogwarts to evoke so many feelings, but everywhere he looked, there were memories and ghosts. Even after eight years, the pain was fresh.

Unwisely, he had apparated just outside of Hogsmeade and walked through the town in a fit of nostalgia. Zonko’s was gone, replaced by Weasley’s second shop. Madame Puddifoot’s Tea Shop had become a trendy coffee bar. The houses burned down by Death Eaters had been replaced. The main street no longer looked like a jack-o-lantern’s gap-toothed smile.

He stood at the new gates of Hogwarts for far too long, his feet refusing to carry him farther. Finally, he summoned the courage only to be greeted by the soft nickers of a thestral drawing the ‘horseless’ carriage. He strolled towards the skeletal steed. He held Lavender Brown as her eyes dulled, and her breath shortened from pants to gasps then a final quiet sigh, the glowing eyes of the animal seemed to understand. Neville reached up and patted its cheek, and it nuzzled him, providing cold comfort.

The castle loomed over him. The spell damage and destruction at the entryway long gone. His eyes roved over the familiar space but stopped on her. He knew she was there; he had read her articles, followed her career. But knowing and seeing are two different things. Slytherin's new Head of House, Daphne Greengrass, sauntered towards him then stopped, startled, when she recognised him. He certainly recognised her. She looked the same: fat blond curls that fell softly down her chest and back, pale flawless skin, a round face, curvy body and blue eyes. She was wearing mossy green robes that dipped low enough to reveal the top of her full bosom. He shouldn’t have been looking. It had been too long since he had been with a witch. The last time was the previous winter when he returned to England for Yule and his grandmothers’ 109 birthday. The on-again-off-again relationship with Hannah had been very much on. Pity, when he had returned to Belgium Hannah had started dating Cormac McLaggen seriously.

Inside his head, he groaned, why did it have to be her?

“The Headmistress extends her greetings, Auror Longbottom. Is it still Auror?” Her smile was pleasant, and her accent lilted as she leaned into her Welsh vowels. Her eyes never met his, just like seventh year.

“Formerly, Auror Longbottom, now it’s Inspector Longbottom from the DMP.” To her credit, her face remained impassive. While Britain was lax when it came to magical plants, the ICW was not. A DMP Inspector never ‘just’ dropped by.

The Ministry’s Department of Magical Agriculture, Fungus and Trees or the D.A.F.T. suffered from a dreadful name and a harried overworked staff. There were two wizards and one witch for the entirety of England, Scottland and Ireland squashed in a small office on the fourth floor between the Pest Advisory Board and the Goblin Liason office. It wasn’t a surprise they hadn’t caught the Inferi Vine coming in or out of the country. It was a tricky cross of puffapod, Devil’s Snare, venomous tentacula, and inferi blood. It started as a small grey-brown pod flecked with red. Left unchecked, the zombie plants could destroy an ecosystem, even kill people.

The first time Neville had seen the vine, it didn’t even have a name. He was in Germany, investigating what could have reduced an entire stand of wand grade trees matchsticks without magic. He had taken a sample of the vine that snaked through the wreckage. In Italy, the gillyweed pads had come unmoored from the lakebed and roamed the water like a marauding pirate, tearing boats apart. One muggle drowned. Once again, he had found the vine. By then, they had started to study it. Nothing could kill it; potions, charms, even vanishing just bounced off the plants. But it was the Bulgarian mandrake nursery that starred in his nightmares: the eerie silence, the broken pots of the youngest mandrake roots, the pulped plant viscera. The shrieking mandrakes had run at the team biting and tearing at them. They kept coming, hundreds of them. Two members of his team were severely injured. They were trapped in a storeroom by the nasty little buggers, when Harvey, the American agricultural liaison ‘got creative’ with petrol, a glass bottle and match.

During the clean-up, they had found fat twisted vines, green as an avada, again. They traced the runners back to a small grey-brown pod flecked with red pulsing like a quivering heart. Harvey doused the vine in petrol and dropped a match.

The next time they had gone out, he brought a mundane tool called a flamethrower. He jollied Neville into taking a turn, "It's a fun way to liven up a dull party!" Americans were so crass.

But he was right; flamethrowers were fun. Neville hadn’t bought one, but he was considering it.

* * *

Meeting McGonagall was cringeworthy. Neville was not prepared for the Headmistress to hug him or to cry. When Professor Sprout had retired, she had owled him every day for a month begging him to take her position. One time that might have been his dream, before the Carrows, Snape and everything had spoiled Hogwarts for him.

After the War, he had joined the Auror’s to hunt down the Carrows and the remaining Lestrange brother. They found them in Portugal. Partially due to a dragnet by Magi-Pol under the auspices of the ICW and, partly, due to Neville’s recognition of a variation of windflower that grew only on Lestrange land. The lead of the Magi-Pol team told Neville about the ICW’s Division of Magical Plants. Neville had applied to the DMP, and they had hired him on the spot. Living in Belgium wasn’t bad; he was hardly home travel for investigations kept him busy. Someday he would want to settle down.

Someday.

He sat quietly as his former Head of House dabbed her eyes. “I wish you had taken the job, Neville. Professor Greengrass is good, but she is not you.”

Neville’s grip on his cup of tea tightened, “Professor Greengrass seems nice.”

She shook her head, “Daphne was in your year, I think. She and her sister were trying to restart their family’s business, but I gather they did not succeed. Astoria fell ill. After she passed, Daphne left and did her mastery." Before the Second War, the Greengrasses owned magi-botany in Britain. Their greenhouses dotted the country, and they had exclusive contracts with Jimmy Kiddell and Ollivander for wand wood. Their decision to remain neutral at Voldemort’s return had cost them. Death Eaters burned their forest, destroyed half the greenhouses, and killed the father and his son. The Greengrass sisters were spared because they were in school.

Neville let the silence stretch before the asked the next question, “You know I am here investigating a new kind of plant, a vine. It makes plants aggressive, bitey. We traced it’s origin to Britain, Scotland, specifically. What do you think of Professor Greengrass? Could she do something like that?”

McGonagall laughed, “She’s Slytherin, but she is a good girl, Neville. If it's bitey, you might better talk to Hagrid. if anyone were to have accidentally created a dangerous new plant with teeth, it would be him.”

* * *

Hagrid’s cabin was dark, Neville’s knock went unanswered. He turned and looked at the pumpkin patch. Unsurprisingly, it was picked clean. Samhain was tomorrow, and the elves would need time to carve pumpkins.

He had missed the last Samhain feast, not that it was much of a feast with the Carrows. He, Luna and Ginny sneaked through the Castle, trying to gain entry into the Headmaster’s Study.

_ He watched as a girl turned the corner she was blond like Hannah and Luna but thicker with a woman’s voluptuous curves, not a girl. Her dress made of orange, yellow and red leaves from the trees, and rustled as she walked. The torch in her hand cast flickering shadows on the dark stone walls. All fires including hallway torches were doused in observance of the Samhain ritual, last performed two centuries ago. Outside the castle, students stood around a massive bonfire kindled from the previous year's muggle studies books and the 'mudblood trash' in the library that the Carrows had forced dentionees to pull out. Neville had saved a few copies for Hermione. He remembered she loved Shakespeare and Jane Austin. He hoped he would be able to give them to her someday._

_Daphne Greengrass was the Torchbearer and would relight the flames throughout the school. The Death Eaters were using all means to pressure the family to renounce neutrality. As Torchbearer, she would be able to enter all spaces, including the Headmaster’s Office. _

_When she passed his hiding place, he threw a _silencio_ at her and dragged her into the alcove. His mouth by her ear, he whispered, “Tell me the password and continue on your way. No one gets hurt. No screaming. Nod if you understand.” She nodded, and he lifted the charm. _

_She squirmed in his arms, and he crushed her back against his chest his arm around her. “I can’t tell you. They’ll know it is me. They’ll take it out on Astoria. I can’t help. Our family is neutral._

_“They won’t allow that. They'll come for you in the end.” Her breath hitched, he had struck a nerve. He knew that the Order had been reaching out to Daphne’s father, he was a proud Hufflepuff who believed that they could weather the storm just as the family had in the first war. But if the Carrows were any indication this time the Death Eaters would be vicious. “They watch us all the time. Threaten us, my brother, and my father,” she said quietly. “_

_"It must scare you.”_

_Silence met his observation, then a whisper, “It does. So much."_

_ “Then do something; help me.” _He felt her stiffen. __

_“Or maybe I should turn you in, Longbottom? You should have used a voice disguising charm." _ _His grip tightened across her chest. "Reckless _ _Gryffindor, are you trying to pick up where Harry and Ron left off? Do you want to get killed?”_

_His adrenaline spiked, and he pulled her close. “No. I don't want to hurt you -” _

_ “You won't. Silly Lion." She paused. "Making threats or playing on my loyalty won't get you anywhere. Why not try bribery instead?”_

_"What do you want?" He wasn't sure what he would be willing to give up, but it would be a lot. They needed the sword, and the bloody snake Snape could bugger off. _

_ She squirmed in his arms, trying to turn. He loosened his grasp. When she faced him, a smile curled around her lips. The torch continued to blaze where she had dropped it when he grabbed her. Eerie shadows danced on the wall and from the light, he could see most of her features. She looked like Hannah but smaller and plumper. Where Hannah angled, Daphne curved. This close Neville could feel her bosom rising and falling as she breathed. Her breasts were soft, large and pressed against him. He was conscious of his body's reaction to her. Why had he never noticed that? Even though she was Slytherin, she was beautiful. _

_ His mouth went dry, and the gulp was stuck in his throat as he asked again only this time it was a strangled croak, “What do you want?” _

_ Her hands rested against his chest then she curled them into his robe, pulling his ear to her mouth. Warm, wet breath tickled his ear, “A kiss. I'm so tired of being a good girl. Just once I want to kiss in a broom closet. I want to feel something and forget this awful place. I want a taste of someday far into the future when this is over, and I’m safe and happy and far away."_

_ Her lips pressed against his. Like everything else about her, the kiss was soft. He wasn’t ready for it, and he sputtered. But her grip was implacable; she wouldn’t let him move. Her lips skated across his, kissing the bottom then the top. When the tip of her tongue caressed the seam between his lips, he opened his mouth to her, and they were snogging. His hand was moving over her bare shoulders. It was good, as good as when he was with Hannah, better even, because she was so soft. _

_Then, his brain caught up to him. He was kissing, snogging, the enemy. He pushed her away. This was wrong. He was taking advantage of her. She was taking advantage of him. She shuffled back until she hit the wall, moving along to the alcove's opening. For a brief moment, she looked pained, then in a hurry, she stooped to get the torch and turned to go. _

_"Tell me the password. I gave you what you wanted," he whispered. He felt disgusting saying it. In a different world, he could kiss a pretty girl just because he wanted to, but now it had to be for the greater good. _

_Her back was to him he could see her let out the breath. “The password is Summer’s end.” _

_ She disappeared through the curtains, and he stood there for a long time. Finally, he stood and crept forward towards Headmaster Snape’s office._

Lost in his musings, Neville wasn't careful, and his heel was tangled up in a vine, and he fell into a shallow puddle. He smacked his fist in the ground as the wet seeped into his robes. Spying something, he pushed the dying leaves aside underneath the vine still bright green. He followed it down the row to a small ugly pod that seemed to pulse in the dying rays of the sun.

Inferi Vine had infested Hogwarts.

* * *

Neville found Hagrid at The Hogshead, picking up a barrel of ale for the feast tomorrow. The friendly and talkative half-giant had sent him sprawling when he clapped him on the back in greeting. It was odd when he turned quiet Neville asked him about the vine in his pumpkin patch. “Haven’t seen nothing. It wer' a smaller haul than normal.”

Neville paused he hadn’t asked about the number of pumpkins. However, when he thought of it he realised, the patch was larger than he remembered, almost twice as large in fact.

“Where did all the pumpkins go, Hagrid?” Neville watched as Hagrid’s eyes flicked towards the bar where Millicent Bulstrode was busy wiping glasses.

“Oh, to Hogwarts or ther' abouts.”

Millie glanced towards them looked hurriedly away; she wasn’t the subtlest of Slytherin’s. If she was watching them, then he should be watching her. Neville excused himself to the toilet, and there he quietly set off his tiny ‘bug’, a Swiss-made magical automaton that looked like a fly. He spelled it to follow Millie. He returned to the bar and nursed his drink, waiting for what would come.

Night had fallen when she left The Hogshead and slipped into the Forbidden Forest. He followed the trail his ‘bug’ had left. He was on a little rise looking down into a clearing where a large bonfire blazed. Hooded figures were shouting and whooping. He heard grunts and slaps of a fight. The tightly clustered group blocked any view of the combatants, but if these were neo-Death Eaters, then he would be cursed if he stood by.

He disillusioned himself and crept towards the crowd. He saw a flash of something orange then green. There was a crack followed by a thud. The crowd lurched out of the way, revealing a man stripped bare to his waist with his fists up, ready to strike his opponent. Facing him was and wasn't a man, the vines twisted together, forming arms, legs, and a body that supported a large, round, orange pumpkin 'head' with a menacing carved face.

The pumpkin man threw itself forward. But the man's fist snapped out crunching into the side of the gourd collapsing part of the grin. The crowd roared its approval. Then he rained blows hard and heavy down on the vegetable. The vines snaked around his wrists, trying to stop the punches. The man paused for a moment his chest heaving with exertion. He grabbed the pumpkin head, and both hands were squeezing it until it broke with a wet crack into large pulpy pieces that fell to the ground. The vine body swayed then collapsed covering the pieces.

Millicent Bulstrode with her hood pushed back, elbowed her way to the centre of the crowd. ”Alright, wizards, the show's over for tonight, pay up. Ambrose beat Angry Jack in a unanimous decision.” Neville looked around the clearing. Broken pumpkins in various stages of rot littered the ground. How long had these pumpkin fights been going on?

Millie doled out the winnings with Hagrid standing nearby to keep the peace. The wizards melted into the forest in twos and threes until only Millie and Hagrid were left. Millie levitated the pumpkin shards to a shoulder-high pile in the corner of the clearing. The pumpkin fight club had been going on for some time. She gave two bags of coins to Hagrid and pocked a third for herself.

Hagrid spoke, “’ll take her cut up if yer wan? Save ye a trip. ‘ll miss this when it's dun, ya know.”

Millie nodded, “It's been fun, but I'll miss the galleons. Though I’ve almost saved enough to buy my brother’s release, just remember Hagrid don’t go blowing it on any new creatures.”

Hagrid's laugh boomed, “Well, I have my eye on a chimaera. She’s three years old, she is. Not _so _new." With a nod, the half-giant loped into the Forest towards Hogwarts.

Neville had a good idea who her of 'her cut' was. Still, he cast a quieting charm on his legs and feet to follow Hagrid. Had he turned back, he would have seen the moon falling on a curious sight, bright green vines curling around the broken pumpkin fragments nudging them together.

* * *

Hagrid emerged near Greenhouse #6. Neville watched the half-giant enter and exit presumably delivering ‘her cut’. It had taken a moment to summon the bravado needed to enter her office. Intellectually, he knew that Daphne Greengrass had replaced Professor Sprout. Professor Greengrass’s citations included seven articles she wrote and eight collaborations ranging from tree pruning to potion ingredient gathering. Her _Witch Weekly_ columns 'Helpful Herbology' would soon be a book of the same name. But seeing her bent over the work table repotting a shrivelfig with her cleavage tumbling out of the top of her robes brought back a stolen kiss and the hurt he had seen on her face when she pushed her away. Daphne never looked at him again that year; her eyes slid away from him whenever he looked at her. He found his courage only when he reminded himself that she had created an incredibly dangerous plant that destroyed property and hurt people.

She doused the lights and walked out the door into the cool night air with her wand tip lit. She startled when she saw him, “Longbottom?”

“Inspector Longbottom, Professor Greengrass, I’m glad I’ve caught you. Do you have a moment to answer a few questions?” Her Slytherin mask dropped into place, and Neville could see her eyes shift away from him. He moved to remain in her gaze.

“I read your article about puffapods in the _ Enchanted Garden. _It was quite good. I was surprised that you would want to cross-breed it with other plants. I can remember and infestation in my garden. My tomatoes were hairy. I almost wished for Devil’s Snare.” Though he would tell no one, he devoured her articles. Partly out of a twisted little joy, he knew how soft Professor Greengrass’s, MB, lips were, and partly due to the clear, concise, competent way she addressed the topics. She had the means and opportunity to create such a twisted plant, but he didn't understand her motive.

She smiled at him, “I’m glad you enjoyed it. Was there a question in that compliment?” Her smile was anodyne, but her words were clipped.

“I was wondering if that is the only experiment you’ve done with puffapods?” He continued quietly, “It takes money to rebuild. I can’t imagine that being a teacher pays much. If you are ever going to rebuild the Greengrass Greenhouses, you will need an armada of gallons.”

She gave him a sad smile, “I don’t know if I can rebuild. When we lost my brother, Jasper, and Daddy in the forest fire, Astoria and I wanted to go on for them. Then she got ill after the baby." She paused as her voice creaked. "Now it’s just mother and me. I don't think I could do it by myself.”

“Won’t Malfoy give you a loan?”

Her laugh was brittle and bitter, “Draco tore down the gardens Tori planted at the Manor after she … passed. So, no. I am quite certain he won’t be interested in a loan. And it isn't about money.”

"What is it about?"

She was quiet. "Fear? I haven't slept without a light on since before our seventh year. As you recall, risk-taking didn’t really pay off for me or you for that matter."

Neville winced his wrists had healed but he could still feel Flich’s manacles, “You know why I am here, don’t you?”

Her lips pursed, “Fighting pumpkins aren’t against the law. Nobody gets hurt. It helps some of those wizards or even witches that have emotions tied up in the War or other problems. We make a little money. Millie is trying to get her brother out of Azkaban. Hagrid wants something bitey. And I … I just like to keep busy.”

Whatever Neville planned to say was cut short by the crashing and thrashing nearby in the forest. He didn’t think it was an acromantula or centaur as they were quiet hunters. Noise increased as a form emerged from mists at the edge of the forest, he saw glowing eyes, a caved-in head and the bright orange of a jack-o-lantern shambling toward them its body made of twisted vines a bright avada green.

Neville and Daphne shared an incredulous look. Another fallen pumpkin fighter followed the first pumpkin fighter. Then two more. Then three. Some of the pumpkin heads were missing pieces. Others were mismatched. A few were shrivelled and black from rot, but they all staggered towards them. Too soon, there were too many to count.

One of the pumpkins stumbled over the firewood, splitting stump. With a jerk of a vine, it pulled the axe wedged in the stump. The pumpkins that had walked past the equipment cleaning station outside Greenhouse #3 had picked up garden trowels and brandished them like knives.

Daphne's eyes were wide. “What is going on? Once the gourd is broken, the magic is done. They shouldn’t be walking. Or arming themselves. ”

Neville grabbed her arm and towed her towards Hogwarts, “They shouldn’t, but they are.”

* * *

Neville sent his bear patronus loping ahead to rouse the Headmistress. Then they legged it arriving at the Castle's doors well in advance of the pumpkin horde. As he and Daphne caught their breath, he managed to choke out, “How many?”

Daphne looked at him like he was speaking a foreign tongue, then her eyes widened with understanding, “Oh pumpkin fighters. I don’t know about 100? Sometimes we had melees and let them fight two or three pumpkins at a time.”

Neville groaned this would be as bad as the mandrakes. If only he had a flamethrower. From now on, he would always travel with one. Though the oversight was understandable, when one is returning to one’s alma mater, a flamethrower doesn’t seem like a necessity. But then again - Hogwarts.

The Headmistress sailed down the steps with her tartan nightgown billowing behind her and her hair in a lace cap. “Mr Longbottom. I don’t know what you were gibbering about in your message, but it is much too late to be making jokes. Pumpkins attacking? Are you having a go at me? It's the middle of the night, and I am not amused…”

Just then there was a banging on the door. Not a knock as much as it sounded like something or more correctly something_s_ were throwing themselves against it. It stopped the Headmistress's tirade. The pummeling went on for long minutes then suddenly stopped.

"Are they gone? The zumpkins?" asked Daphne.

"Zumpkins?" sniffed McGonagall.

"Zombie pumpkins. They aren't zombies, and they certainly aren't pumpkins, anymore at least. So, zumpkins."

The Headmistress' gaze went frosty, "Professor Greengrass, I don't suppose you know how they came to be that way?"

Before Daphne could reply, Neville interrupted by pointing to the door where a small green tendril snaked its way through the gap at the bottom. The Headmistress cast a freezing charm, but it did nothing to stop the tendril's progress. The vine continued to curl up the door, growing longer and thicker. It found the door bar and wrapped around it, lifting it out of place. The door opened inward revealing the garish squashed and broken faces of the zumpkin horde.

The Headmistress shot stunners at the shuffling swarm. Neville picked her up, tucking her under his arm, he ran into the Great Hall with Daphne close behind. She slammed the doors shut and warded them with her most potent weed-be-gone charm.

Neville set the Headmistress down, “Do you have any fire whiskey or ale?”

Bristling at his handling of her person, McGonagall hissed, “Mr Longbottom, now is not the time for a wee nip.”

“Fire,” said Daphne, “You can only destroy them with fire?” She flicked her wand and summoned the cask of ale in the corner it almost knocked Neville over as it flew towards them.

“I’m going to levitate this out there and spray them with it.” He flicked his wand, and the cask began to float like a very fat, slow broom. He jumped on it; his legs splayed wide as he fought to say on the barrel.

“When you jump clear, I’ll light it up.” Daphne gave him a genuine smile.

They opened the doors, and the zumpkins rushed them. Neville flew above them, opening the tap and spraying them with the ale making clumsy, slow turns on the barrel. He was just out of reach of there garden implements, but not the axe. Perversely, it worked in his favour, as the axe carved a hole in the barrel showering the zumpkins with the alcohol.

Neville jumped from the damaged barrel, grabbing on to one of the wall hangings and yelled, “Now.”

Daphne cast the strongest _incendio_ she could, willing the pumpkins to wither and fry. There was a yellow fireball as the alcohol sparked then combusted. It was followed by the clatter of metal garden trowels hitting the ground. The peril vanished in moments, only the lingering scent of baking pumpkin reminded them of just how close they had come to a zombie pumpkin invasion of Hogwarts. Neville had a sudden craving for pumpkin pasties.

Neville let go of the hanging and fell to the floor, landing hard on his arse. Daphne stood over him and offered him a hand up.

The Headmistresses lips had disappeared into a thin line, “What in good Godric’s name just happened?”

Neville smiled at Daphne and took the hand. “I think I just found my new partner. I’ve been looking for a magi-botanist. I'm tired of being alone. What do you say, partner?” Daphne’s face split wide with a smile.

They walked into the Great Hall as dawn was breaking on Samhain.

Pity they had forgotten about the 1,500 pumpkins floating in the Great Hall decorations for the evening's Samhain Feast. Those pumpkins had found the cutlery interesting, particularly the knives.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this story for one reason and one reason only, I needed 'pumpkin fight club' to exist. But the flamethrower thing was a happy accident.
> 
> Thanks for reading.


End file.
